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#I love my wolf child shafted by canon
roseheldmoved · 6 years
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almost 5 years since I first took her up as a Muse && I'd still die for lyanna stark
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thecleverdame · 4 years
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Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Two
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Series Master List
Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo
Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.
Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.
Words: 40k
Beta:  ilikaicalie
This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<
-
Flat of Sam Winchester Sam packs his bags, methodically wrapping jars of chemicals and gently folding anatomy charts. He’s going to bring as much of his laboratory as the carriage will allow.
“Do you truly need all this?” Dean is holding a heavy jar up to the light, it’s contents questionable as the specimen floats to the side of the glass. “Dad didn’t need fancy magnifying glasses, he did the job with a gun and a bible.”
“Dad was convinced there were monsters in every dark corner of the world. He was just another believer who fell in with the mass hysteria.” Sam doesn't like to talk about John, there’s too much unfinished business. “How many genuine poltergeists have we come across in our life, three?”
“Four.” Dean holds up four fingers triumphantly. “You always forget the woman in white.”
Sam looks up as if remembering for the first time. “That seems like a lifetime ago.”
“I suppose it does.” Getting up from his perch, Dean wanders around the room as Sam goes about his work. The walls are filled with charts and maps, Sam’s always had a secret pension for cartography.
Above the fireplace there two photos. One is of their parents, John sitting in a chair, Mary standing behind him with her hand placed on his shoulder. There is no joy, only long faces as they look into the camera. The second is of a beautiful blonde woman, her hair falling over her shoulder, her name written in elaborate calligraphy across the bottom of the frame: Jessica. Dean takes the pictures, making a close inspection of the woman who was once part of his brother's life.
“If you’re going to touch my things, you can wait downstairs.” Sam plucks the frame from Dean’s hand and tucks it into his case, along with his clothing.
“You can’t have that much more to pack. There’s nothing left.” Dean holds his hands out, showcasing the bare room.
“I’m almost done.” Sam walks to the window, opening a birdcage with a bright red cardinal inside.
“What will you do with him?” Dean watches the bird flutter out of the cage and then out the open window.
“Fly free. It is a good day for sad farewells.” Sam watches it go, looking down at the coach on the street below. “Our carriage awaits.”
-
It takes an hour to get out of New York City, the coach lumbering past the city limits, forgoing civilization. The wide road narrows, a single dirt path that leads onward through thickly forested wilderness.
“Jo had no interest in accompanying us?” Sam inquires, looking out the window at the never ending sea of trees. Dusk is falling but they plan to continue on throughout the night.
“She’s unhappy with me.” Dean shrugs, his lip curling.
“With good reason.” Sam lifts an eyebrow.
“I don’t need your judgment as well as hers. We’ll have a child the normal way, just as everyone else does.”
“Not if you’re with me on this investigation. I believe one has to be present to conceive a child.” Sam can’t help but tease.
“Don’t get smart.” Dean kicks his brother's boot. “We’ve plenty of time. She’s not that old, although to hear her tell it, she’s nearing her final years. Everything is dramatic beyond reason.”
“Maybe,” Sam shrugs. “She wants a child, it seems like a normal desire.”
“She wants someone else’s child, from an orphanage.” Dean shakes his head. “I’m not talking about this anymore. It’s part of the reason I’m here, I need a break from this constant pressure.”
“You’ll hear no more of it from me.” Sam smiles, taking their father’s journal from his bag.
“If you think he was a lunatic, why do you carry his journal with you?”
“There’s a lot to be learned.” Sam taps the cover. “He might have not realized what he saw, but from just the description I’m able to deduce what sort of natural phenomenon he was witnessing. Just last week I determined his obsession with the will-o'-the-wisp was likely nothing more than swamp gas. This is what gives us insight. When the villagers start talking of magical fairy lights in the forest, we’ll know where to start looking.”
“He’d hate it.” Dean chuckles, rolling up his jacket as a pillow, lying down on the bench.
“Yes, he would.”
He has few memories of his father. And what remains are faint recollections. What he can recall with a burning intensity are his father’s obsessions. His quest to find and kill monsters that never really existed. John Winchester saw demons lurking in every shadow. He found the devil in whispered secrets and meaningless symbols. And his father killed without discretion, he saw only black and white, good and evil.
John’s relentless belief in the spiritual world is what still fuels Sam’s desire to disprove anything otherworldly. He and Dean rely on facts and a sense of order and reason. Rarely do the creatures hiding in the night turn out to be anything other than flesh and blood men.
The sun quickly fades as the coach rocks along, tree branches scraping the side of the carriage. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howls and Sam looks out the small window into the black of night, before shutting the curtain and finding some sleep of his own.
The next morning, Sam wakes up before Dean, peeking out to reveal their journey has progressed through the sun-dappled forest. His brother is still in the depths of deep sleep, a hand resting limp in his lap. Across Dean’s open palm is a prominent scar, a long nasty cut he acquired in a scuffle many years ago.  Sam checks the contents of his leather satchel, pausing for a moment to study the palm of his own hand. There are strange scars on both palms, evenly dispersed tiny dots of white tissue. He’s had them his entire life, unsure of how they came to be.
Sleepy Hollow
Sam and Dean stand between two massive stone pillars, watching the coach as it leaves them behind.
“You’ll have to leave most of your luggage here. We can send for it later.” Dean grumbles, picking up his bags. “Tell me again why he couldn’t take us into town?”
“Superstition,” Sam confirms, glancing up at the tree limbs above them. “Dean, look.”
There are dead ravens hanging from the branches, strung up by twine.
“A few dead crows to keep the rest out of the fields.” Dean’s grimaces. “It’s a grisly sight. Welcome to Sleepy Hollow.”
They follow the winding road to town, passing a church and a graveyard. The road ahead is bordered by rows of businesses and two-story homes. As they enter the town square an elderly woman stands in her doorway, watching. Sam tips his hat and the woman scowls, looking away and shutting the door with a thud.
“I just love townspeople,” Dean chortles.
Looking up Sam spies another townie staring down from his window. The moment their eyes meet he closes the shutters.
“I’m seeing a pattern,” Sam comments, looking behind him. As they continue they see there are two or three riflemen placed at vantage points on the roofs of the town. Looking back Sam spies another in the church tower. The whole village is like the wild west, waiting for outlaws to attack.
Off in the distance, sitting in the middle of a field, there’s a strange wooden bunker, more like a small fortress with a huge bell mounted on the top. Several farmers are gathered around it all bearing rifles. The Winchesters pause, looking at each other and the sight before them. A young boy about ten, walks up to one of the rifleman, with food and drink tied up in a cloth. The older man looks down, offering the boy an affectionate pat on the head.
“Don’t worry, son.”
Another man leads the boy away as the father climbs back up onto the bunker, several rifles slung over his back. In front of the bunker, across the field, other farmers are lighting torches, enough to line the entirety of the forest's edge.
“What have we gotten ourselves into?” Sam murmurs, moving forward.
“I don’t think we should be outside during night hours, Sam.” Dean hikes his bag up on his shoulder. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“We’re headed there.” Sam points to a grand manor home sitting atop a hill, the windows are aglow, casting a warm picture against the gray backdrop of impending night.
Van Tassel House
Sam sets down his bags on the porch of the stately home. The length of the porch is lined with jack-o-lanterns, glowing orange.
Dean shoves an elbow into his brother’s ribs, drawing his attention to a couple, lustfully wrapped around each other in a dark corner of the porch. Sam clears his throat, mumbling an apology and opening the door. A shaft of light illuminates the kissing duo, both brothers memorizing their faces for future reference.
The front door opens to reveal the foyer and main hall. There’s a harvest party in progress, the town is gathered, music playing in the background. Men and women are enjoying food and drink, talking quietly in groups as Sam and Dean make their way through the celebration.
Dean stops a young woman, smiling with brazen charm. “Pardon our intrusion, we’re seeking Baltus Van Tassel.”
“In the parlor sir, farther on,” she nods, glancing back to him. Ahead they find a large group of men, women, and children in a circle, taunting a blindfolded woman, you, being spun around by a barrel-chested man.
-
You can feel your head roll as Brom spins you, again and again, his large hands lingering on your shoulders for longer than necessary. Suddenly he releases you, and everyone goes quiet, avoiding your searching outstretched hands.
You circle slowly, the blindfold tightly covering your eyes, chanting the refrain that makes the children and even some of the women shiver with pleasurable fright. They stifle their giggles as you reach out, grasping at the air. “The Pickety Witch, the Pickety Witch, who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch?”
Lunging forward, you grab empty air, narrowly missing Brom as the crowd snickers. Dean glances back, noting the couple from the porch making their way back into the party. Sam is leading the way, trying to pass through the crowd to reach the far door.
You reach out, only to meet the solid frame of a warm body beneath your hands as the room goes silent. You’ve no idea that the room is quiet because you’ve grabbed onto a stranger. After all, silence is the point of the game, to avoid your capture.
Your hand pats the chest in front of you, he’s a man and he’s large. Reaching up you touch Sam’s face.
Sam’s looks to Dean who just grins back. “A kiss, a kiss!” a child calls out.
“She has to guess first,” yells another woman. Dean watches the man who was just outside with another woman, slip his arm around the wifely matron standing beside him. He’s only been here ten minutes and he’s already confirmed an extramarital affair. Your fingers trail across the strong jaw of the unknown man before you. You’ve no idea who it is, so you take a guess. “Is it...Theodore?” The crowd laughs and Sam clears his throat. “Pardon ma’am. I am a stranger here.” A stranger? You smile, excited at the prospect. “Have a kiss on account then.”
Standing on the tips of your toes, you stretch up, placing a kiss at his jaw, then take off your blindfold to reveal a breathtakingly handsome man standing before you. There’s a gentle smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, his bright eyes shining. But his entire expression changes when he gets a clear look at your face.
For a fleeting moment, Sam flounders, stricken by the sight of you, his composure failing him as he stares at you, somewhat stunned.
You glance down at his hand, finding no ring on his finger.
“I...um, I am looking for Baltus Van Tassel,” he manages, never looking away.
“You’re in luck.” You smile, eyes locked on each other. “I am his daughter. Y/N Van Tassel.”   “And who are you, friend? We have not heard your name yet.” Brom steps forward.
Sam gives you one last look before turning his attention to the man, roughly matching his height and size, who’s clearly unhappy with his presence.
“I have not said it. Excuse me…” Sam tries to move forward.
Brom grabs at Sam’s collar as Sam stares at him, confused at this overreaction.
“Brom!” You shout, tugging on his arm. He’s always had a delusion that he has some claim to you, but in reality, there is no love connection between you, there never will be.
“You need some manners.” Brom hisses.
“You need to release my brother.” Dean steps forward and the crowd steps back, leaving the three men in the center of the room.
“Come, come.” There’s a chuckle from the back of the room. It’s your father, Baltus. “We want no raised voices on this happy occasion.”
“Father,” you gesture toward Brom.
“It is only to raise the spirits during this dark time that I and my good wife are giving this little party.” Your stepmother stands behind your father, looking on with silent judgment.  Brom releases Sam, stepping back and you relax.
Sam shakes off the confrontation, just happy to have a focal point, somewhere to concentrate other than your wonderful face and full bosom.
“Young sirs, you are welcome, even if you are selling something!” He chuckles, patting his belly.
“Thank you.” Sam smoothes a hand through his hair. “I am Constable Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Constable Dean Winchester. We are sent to you from New York with authority to investigate the murders in Sleepy Hollow.”
This news seems to have quite the effect as the entire room goes still. You give both men the appraisal they deserve, they are rather wonderful examples of the male gender. Smart and handsome is an elusive pairing in a village as small as this one.
“What good are Constables?” Reverend Steenwyck pipes up, unable to contain his outburst. “Reverend.” Lady Van Tassel, your stepmother, gives the Clergyman a reproachful look, moving forward towards the brothers. “Sleepy Hollow is grateful to you, Constables. I hope you will honor this house by remaining with us until-”
“Until you’ve made an arrest!” Brom snorts.
To both Sam and Dean’s surprise, this gets a nervous laugh. Your father frowns and Brom snorts but all you can do is look at Constable Sam Winchester with renewed interest. He’s to stay in your home, a fact that brings interesting possibility.
Sam can feel you watching him as if he has a sixth sense that’s activated only for you. His brother, Dean, is the one who catches you appraising Sam like a prize pig, trying to hide his amusement as you look away with a sly smile. Baltus turns to his wife, “Well spoken!” Then turns to Sam and Dean. “Come, gentlemen. We’ll get you settled. Play on! Let the party resume.” The fiddlers strike up the music as you watch the two men leave the room.
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